Something Different Every Time
by SyrenHug
Summary: They're always someone else in each life. A pretty face or a waste of space. But no matter the world, the time, the people or the place they find a way. Jace/ Simon with touches of other pairings.
1. Life Is Light

_~Simon doesn't know how to move forward. Neither does Jace. Maybe they can do it together. _

What to do for this chapter:

1) Listen to at least one of these songs: Sunshine and City Lights by Greyson Chance or Life is Beautiful by Sixx A.M. Even though Sunshine and City Lights was what I imagined playing in both scenes, Jace and Simon are eighteen year olds who are too cool for school or Greyson Chance so imagine Life is Beautiful is blaring in the car scene.

2) Hug one of your parents. Be happy they're not gone or fooling around with your teacher or abusing you.

3) Close your eyes. Think of a place that makes you feel safe, that no matter how crazy life gets or how bored it all makes you, you know that you'll always find something good for you there. Keep it. Don't let it go. It's where Jace and Simon are with each other.

4) Blast the songs and screw everyone. You're too good for this place.

* * *

_What you need to know_  
_Is to try and let it go, let it go_  
_What you need to find_  
_Is someone who never will let you go_

_And oh oh_  
_Sunshine and city lights will guide you home_  
_And oh oh_  
_Yeah you gotta know that I'll never let you go_  
_Mmm, I'll never let you go_

* * *

You sigh, shuffling your shoes. It's been a hard day. You got a bad grade on your Geometry test and you're pretty sure your mother and your Geometry teacher are screwing around. Your friend's are being weird and secretive but it's stupid because you know why. They were mostly your ex-girlfriend Clary's friends and now that she's found someone better to fuck there's no point hanging out with the charity case any more. That's all you are. It's all you'll ever be in this town.

You snap out of your pity party when a car drives by your place on the corner. You're not sure why but it makes some kind of weird sense that you'd end up here. Before your father died he'd walk down with you to this corner and count cars with you. Stupid, unnecessary games that meant the absolute world at the time. Especially since your mother was always busy with work or her endless string of affairs.

Your family has always been closed off, closed in and sometimes you feel like your trapped in one of those plastic container your father used to put your sandwiches for lunch in. But, unlike the containers, you don't get to open up. The red of the traffic light imprints itself into your vision. You watch the car waiting go anyway. _Stop._

"That was a pretty idiotic move."

You turn to your right and blink. Because you'd been staring at the light too long everything runs with blood. The guy in front of you is familiar, so recognizable with his golden hair and honey sweet eyes. He doesn't talk often but he's usually surrounded by people. You've seen Clary eye him more than once, interested, but she's so cool she can't be bothered with human emotions such as interest and caring and love. Damn. You're certainly more than a little bitter.

They way you know him really is something you've never told anyone before. Two years ago, in freshman year, he sat in front of you in English class. The class was utter bullshit and your teacher must have called you an idiot about a hundred times but everything Jace did was fascinating. Usually, he sat up straight but when he'd gotten a question wrong or the teacher yelled at you for not paying attention he'd bunch into himself like there wasn't any warmth left in the world. And there were bruises. Not noticeable ones, just black and blue marks between the crevices of his elbow or angry scratches that marred his neck. Jace fidgeted a lot on those days.

"People are stupid." You can't help but say. The feeling you used to get when he'd look back at you sometimes is coming back.

He tilts his head. A lock of curls hang on his forehead, you wonder how they don't get tangled in his eyelashes. "Yeah."

"What time is it?"

You could look, but for some reason you don't want to lose the solidarity over an unimportant thing or the way it feels to speak to someone after today even if it's barely a conversation. You watch him pull out his phone. The screen makes his face glow like your dad's used to when he'd tell you scary stories with a flashlight.

"Around eight. It's getting late," Jace laughs at the raised eyebrow you give him. "Okay, it's getting late for twelve-year olds."

You play with your jacket pocket, trying to find an escape route inside. Even though you haven't glanced up, you know the light's still red. What are you doing here? "So I guess I should be home by now."

"Maybe you should be." He says though it's hardly a whisper of a thing. His eyes are traveling way farther than you've ever been. Suddenly, he's pressed himself closer to you, leaning on the pole your leaning on. Breathing the air your trying to breathe but can't because _he's so close. _

"Simon?"

Is that your name? You wonder sometimes because people forget and you can't always remember. It's not a bad name, not particularly easy to remember but not really hard to forget if you voice it right. Two syllables. Two vowels, three consonants. And you marvel at the way it rolls of Jace's tongue like a sonnet others never memorize.

You answer as if you're accepting it. Whatever is given or held back. It's all fine now, you don't expect anymore. _Stop._ "Yes."

"Why are you here?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

You swallow. Honesty tastes like pizza with licorice. It smells of incense and rain; pure and overwhelming. You think for a minute you can hear an echo of your word's in the darkening night, somewhere far from you, but there's only you and the beautiful boy next to you, staring at you like he'd forgotten two times two sort of does equal four.

"I don't either."

You watch him. The way you used to watch him in class. The strength of his silence when he's probably the one person who deserves to be loud. The hoodie he's wearing even though its spring and it stopped being cold in this city about a hundred years ago. He's a guy, a good one, but one nonetheless. Someone a bit different then you in his likeness. This makes sense too. You are both too good for this place but not good enough for each other; at least that's what you both will always think. You bit your lip and twist around, look up. The traffic light is a wide eye blinking, a bright halo of green fanning out over the street. It's never green after eight but today it is. The wind whips your hair into your face as you stop considering and-

_Go. _

You grab his wrist and pull. He's surprised, but a smile creeps like the schoolboy in your favorite poem. It registers that it might be his favorite poem too. "Let's go get something to eat."

* * *

It wasn't easy, being friends. Jace was hard to read and even harder to get along with. There were moments when you'd want to throw something at him but you always refrained. Because, despite it all, Jace was alone and so were you. And you liked him. More than you probably should've.

Your friendship was a secret at first. You only saw each other out of school or you gave him a ride when he needed one. Clary was still lurking around with her boy toy and her friends still wouldn't talk to you though sometimes you caught Eric's gaze across the cafeteria. But then he'd go back to eating his disgusting macaroni and you'd try to forget it happened.

Jace liked to sit next to Clary's table with his two friends Alec and Isabelle. They didn't talk much but you could see the affection they shared from miles away. You figured things would stick to there routine until junior year was over and you could leave to visit your Dad's family for the summer. They didn't.

"Do you mind?" You swallow a bite of your sandwich and glance up, expecting a freshman asking to sit with you to make it seem like they at least knew someone. You freeze when you see the hair and the eyes and the hoodie. Behind him are an obviously uncomfortable Alec and a smiling Isabelle. It takes you a minute to form something that makes sense.

"Huh?"

Jace rolls his eyes and vacates the seat next to you while his friends sit across from him. You are sure that you've landed into an alternate universe.

"Um," Not the most intelligent way to start a conversation but you're trying. "Why are you here?"

Isabelle chews for a moment then answers. "We wanted to meet Jace's boyfriend."

"Izzie!"

"Well, it's true."

"You don't have to say it so loud." Alec frowns, or does whatever it is a person who always frowns does to express their agitation. It hits that they're talking about you. Since when are you and Jace dating? Jesus Christ. You haven't even kissed or anything. You know your flushing because Jace points it out.

"Thanks for the oh so helpful observation, asshole."

Isabelle bounces in her seat. How did so much energy get transported into one person? "Ooh, I knew I would like him."

Jace shakes his head, biting into a piece of pizza. He makes face at the taste but doesn't complain. His dad makes it for him, the only nice thing he does. "Izzie, you like everyone."

"So untrue. I can't stand Clary Fray. Any more make up and she'd look like a clown. Plus, she's probably had more STD's then leopards have spots."

As much as you agree with all of it, she was your girlfriend and you did care about her a great deal so it's your gentlemanly duty to at least try to defend her. "I used to date her and I have it on great authority that she hasn't slept with _that_ many people."

Everyone stares at you. Then Isabelle giggles. Alec kind of awkwardly smiles in your general direction. Your – Good God is this actually possible? - boyfriend chuckles, stealing one of your fries. And this time when you catch Eric's eye, you look away first.

This makes sense too.

* * *

_A Year and a Hundred Green Lights Later_

"What are you doing?" He asks, playing with the volume of your CD. You give him a look and he keeps fiddling with it because he's an asshole but he knows you can never get mad at him for it. It's _Jace. _

You bite your lip and he reaches over and lays his finger on your mouth. You stop. "Do you recognize where we are?"

He glances out the window. The place looks the same, despite the reconstruction and the new shops. The real stuff didn't change. Now that it's your last time seeing it for a long time you recognize it as your safe haven. The place that you hope some kid will find one day and understand the meaning of. Jace turns and shifts his glance between you and the traffic light. It's red.

"This is where we-"

"Yeah."

He frowns then reaches forward, turning the music up obnoxiously high. _Just open your eyes. Just open your eyes. And see that life is beautiful._ It's a good song but still. Neither of you have enough street cred for it to be this high. The seat makes a rough noise as he leans back and closes his eyes. You grin at his show of nonchalance. Your boyfriend is kind of ridiculous.

"Jay," He opens one eye up and you're almost positive his eyes reflect the light of the sun. Only some part of him would do something as awesome as that. "Should we wait it out? Or you think it'll change?"

He looks at you, thinking, and your back on the street corner for a moment deciding to take a risk that might change you or might mean nothing at all. Jace laughs suddenly. You wish you could watch that laugh catch the wind.

He shakes his head then takes the hand resting on the gear shift. His grip is firm but his hands are lighter than the sun inside him. "Just go, idiot. It'd be stupid to wait."

So you roll your eyes and go forward.

_Will you swear on your life? That no one will cry at my funeral?_

* * *

Thanks for reading and thanks to my super awesome, crazy, idiotic friends who realize without me saying that my corner is them. Without you guys I wouldn't go forward.


	2. Ain't It Fun (The Week Part 1)

Little things about the last chapter.

- Alec and Isabelle were actually a couple and the whole time I was writing it I was like _God this is so incestuous_ but whatever. It's not like they knew that they were brother and sister in another life.

- There might be a continuous of them in college. Maybe.

- I felt horrible bashing Clary but kind of not. I don't know she just has that making of a total witchy cheerleader. A redheaded Regina George.

~_He's a bully. Simon would know._

Warning: Poetry. Kidding. Language and an implied awkward handjob. Jesus, those are the best kind.

* * *

Monday morning.

Fluorescent lights, too bright.

Shaky hands, lazy glances. Too early and it's Monday.

You hate Mondays. Another week of déjà vu.

"Hey, faggot." You hear the hiss but ignore it. Maybe you can get out of it today. But they always find a way to trap you, to make everything tougher then has to be.

You face forward. The teacher's lecture is being disregarded because everyone hates Mr. Henry for some reason. You think he's interesting. And he's the only teacher you know here that actually tries to help you. Everyone else looks away. Like maybe if they don't see it, it didn't happen. There's a poke to your back. You doodle on the corner of your paper. Another poke. You try to focus on Mr. Henry's voice.

"Writer's like Edgar Allen Poe are revered now but in the days they wrote, they were looked down upon."

His voice is clear, concise. His hair is messy and it looks like he hasn't shaved in months but he really does try. So when there's the feel of nails raking your neck you keep silent and write words down. People are laughing behind you.

"I know you can hear me."

You wasted four months hating him when he started. At first, you stood up to him but it was stupid. No matter what, he did it anyway.

"You have ugly skin. I bet you don't even bathe." Someone snorts and the nails dig in harder. It hurts but not as much as the words. The words always hurt a pinch more.

"Or maybe your dad hits you. I wouldn't be surprised. Your disappointment, anyone could see that."

Your dad doesn't speak to you. Neither does your mom. Sometimes you wish they would beat you and then you feel sick because there are kids around the world going through hell and you're _wishing for it._

Your neck is burning now. You suppose there's blood. There's always blood on Mondays.

* * *

_Ignorance is bliss and I'd trade it for it a kiss. _

_There's sanguinity in dying. _

_And, oh, I know you're trying. But not hard enough. _

_On my soul it reads in fine print, _tread lightly here.

_I guess you didn't look and just took. _

_Tore the wings off butterflies when you knew they needed them to fly. Spent the teaching of truth learning how to lie._

_And, oh, I know that you're trying. But hope is always dying. _

_Though not hard enough. _

* * *

Tuesdays are fearless.

Obvious trips, the turning of tricks. It's poker and he's all in.

You're walking to Chemistry, cursing the fact that you have to take it at all. But you're a junior. And your grades are well enough that it's a possibility you could graduate early. You have enough credits for it. You scratch your arm absent-mindedly. It's irritated because _he _slathered something on it first thing this morning and you have no fucking idea what it was.

Someone grabs your arm from behind and pulls. You protest but he drags you along until you're in front of the janitor's closet. He shoves you inside then closes the door. "Let me out." You already know the door is locked because you heard it click. There's a rustling noise behind you.

"Hello?"

"Hey." You don't recognize the voice which is a relief in some way.

You stay by the door. "Do I know you?"

"No." It's obviously a guy. It gnaws at you. What is he up to?

"Why are- " It hits you suddenly. There are chemicals in here. Things that could land you in the hospital for a large amount of time or kill you. Neither sounds great. "-Oh."

The guy's voice is apologetic. Because being sorry is going to make up for it. This is probably his initiation into the popular group. You swallow. The bitterness threatens to choke you. "Look, just take what I give you. If you don't I have to give you something that'll make you pass out."

He hands you a cup with a shaky hand and you wish you could see his face. Or maybe you don't. You don't want to spend time feeling sorry for his situation, for his desperation. When did cruelty become the new thing? You toss back whatever's in the cup and sink down on the floor. The liquid churns in your stomach.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Don't play dumb. "Why this?"

"I don't want to end up like you." And for some reason you can't help but laugh. It's a crazy, unrestrained thing. Because you can't help but understand. You wouldn't want to end up like yourself either, if you had a choice.

* * *

You were always an inbetweener. You were born a boy but it had never felt like the right word for you. You played with cars and liked basketball but pink didn't repel you and nail polish was something you experimented with. You weren't overly feminine but you weren't a tough guy either. It had taken years but you'd found the word for it. Androgynous. People had trouble with so it wasn't said aloud but it made it no less true.

You thought girls were pretty but guys didn't hold any less of an appeal. You liked people. And you were human. But society didn't believe in both or neither, it was either A or C, true or false. Pick one that applies.

You want to be mad at it but can't. People needed the safety of a label, a category. You get it.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon. School is over in ten minutes.

Calculated Algebra, broken desks. The teacher is insane and nobody notices how fake her smile is.

You have three classes with him and this one is the worst because he's bored. There's no one to keep him in check because his friends aren't here. Your stomach is dying but it gives you something to distract from his staring.

You hate it more than the pain of his hands and fingers and you have no idea why. No, that's not true. You know why. Because sometimes you hope that he'll see the things nobody notices. The grey in your eyes, the way you can write with both hands. You practically beg for him to see you the way everyone hopes to seen; like their important. Even for a second.

But he doesn't. He stares for laughs, amber eyes idly hidden by his long lashes. He's model worthy and he knows it. You glance at him, curling a hand around you stomach. He realizes. Smirks. When the teacher stops talking, he speaks. Two words. And you waste another five minutes hating him.

"You wish."

* * *

Written on a napkin in red pen:

_I want to suffocate in bleach_

_Scrub me out and dye me pink_

_Pink inside, flawless skin _

_Wash the dirtiness away, stuff the poison in_

_I want to die clean _

_And I smell it, I feel the sting_

* * *

Thursdays. Lunchtime.

Empty stomachs, empty girls. Shocker; the cookies are good.

He is nicer in the only way a person like him can be nice. He only makes fun of you.

You walk past his table which you hate but it's the only way to get to out of the cafeteria and into the hallway without alerting one of the lunch ladies. They don't care, really, but you prefer avoiding issues.

"Hey." You know the tone that's reserved for you but keep going. Maybe you can-

"I know about your sister." You freeze.

Your sister works in the porn industry. She's twenty-five and you haven't talked to her in years but you're well aware of her profession. How does he know? You shake it off. He's just fucking with you. Like always.

But then he's saying something else and the words don't roll off like usual and you register the act of walking back towards him and _clawing something_ until there are hands holding you steady. You are a wave crashing against the sand. But you're being restrained and you don't understand why. You don't understand why.

* * *

_I wish I could touch you. Not on the skin but somewhere inside, where the poison is. _

_I wish I could scar you, reach in deep. Play with your heart like animals play with their meat. _

_I wish I could please you. Earn a gold star. _

_I wish I could hurt you and I don't know why. All I know is you are vase I'd like to break but you got there first. I'm on the floor. _

_I wish you could see me. You are blind. _

_That's all right. I'll be fine. _

_Yeah, I'll be fine. _

* * *

Fridays are a tangled mess. It's free period.

Studied silence.

A symphony of sound.

You're fucked up, it's going around.

You wait in the bathroom. Everything he does is scheduled, planned and you're glad. At least you know what to expect. You fiddle with your pencil, tapping against the dirty floor and then he's there. You watch him walk in, he's pretending not to notice you, but you certainly notice him. One of his eyes is black and blue and there's a cut on his eyebrow that may or not heal. You hope it messes up his perfect skin forever.

"Watch where you're clawing next time." He's staring in the mirror. Of course. You wonder what it's like to be that vain.

"No," You tilt your head. "I don't think I will."

"Fuck you."

"Been there, done that."

He decides to ignore your retorts. There's the sound of the faucet turning and water pouring. And silence. Which is great. Whatever.

"Your stomach still hurt?"

No. But that's because you spent two hours yesterday throwing up after you got detention for fighting. It was pure agony and you wasted three hours hating him. God you hate him. No, wait, don't waste it. You're mad but he's an idiot.

"Not really."

Disappointment slides into his tone. He's a sadist. "I'll have to try something different next time."

Yeah, because there'll be a next time.

"Are we going to sit her and chat or are you going to get on with it?"

"Fine."

And then he's pulling you into the stall and you hate this part because he's the epitome of smooth and you're an awkward kid who wears band t-shirts and likes musicals. It's so cliché you could cry but then he'd probably find some way to make fun of that too. He feeds on your vulnerability because he has none himself.

There's the fumbling of clothing. The roaming of flesh. Sometimes he gets off on getting you off which is hilarious, but you've never made fun of him for it because you suck at blow jobs. And, no, not that kind of suck.

"What are you thinking about?"

It's embarrassing but you sometimes you can't help loving him a bit. Not an unrequited love, tragic Cinderella story. It's mostly because you can't feel so passionate about another human being and not love them a little. Yeah, he's a dick but he's not the worst thing out there and you hate yourself more than you hate him. And that's why you're finished with it all. Game over. It's not worth it. None of it. There's nothing that you want to stick around for because there _isn't anything for you to stick around for._

So when he looks you between the moments of uncomfortable thrusting, you shake your head. "Nothing."

* * *

Post- it note on the sink:

_If I'm still alive after this then I totally didn't do it right. _

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	3. Glass Houses

Hey, I'm alive. I literally have three unfinished chapters of this story but because I'm lazy, I jusy can never get around to posting them. But, I'm here so don't hate me. There's actually a bonus chapter for this one and at some point I'll post it.

Little things about last chapter:

-Yes, there will be a part two. It'll be of them older but it'll start with Simon at the hospital.

-I loved writing Simon as androgynous because I actually am, so it was fun.

- I orginally posted the bathroom scene as Simon getting raped by Jace's friends and Jace stopping them but it didn't fit with part two so I re-wrote it.

-Alec was the boy who gave Simon the chemicals. I've actually been given chemicals to ingest before as a joke. I puked for like three days. Not fun.

Warnings: I don't know. Nothing, I guess. Language? Magnus's shimmy? Homophobia. Yeah, okay, there.

~_Simon's never noticed Jace watching him. Thankfully, Isabelle and Magnus do._

* * *

"I can't believe I have fuckin detention on fuckin Saturday morning." Isabelle growled. She slammed her car door so hard it shook. Simon couldn't help the grin that overtook his face. Isabelle was really not a morning person. Or an afternoon person. Or, well, an all day kind of person.

"Is it because you need your _fuckin _beauty sleep?" He asked watching her rake a hand through her long dark hair as they neared the school entrance. Shadow Hunter Institute was stamped in fancy cursive on the brick of the building. A rich snobby private school for rich snobby kids. He almost wished he didn't have a scholarship to the place.

But, he supposed, he never would have met Isabelle, and despite the self absorption that radiated off her like the sun, she had never made him feel inferior. Well no more inferior then everyone else was compared to a Lightwood.

"As if. I'm already breath taking. Jesus, Lewis, hold it like a man." She rolled her eyes at his struggle against the door. It was damned heavy and he was more fit for playing Assassin's Creed then doing things were you had to have any kind of muscle strength. Simon's work out consisted of reaching to get the remote. Quite the feat, if he said so himself.

The school smelled like old people and blood which wasn't the most comforting thing in the world but it fit. The building had been designed in the 1800's as sanctuary for anyone who needed it. There were generations of stories passed down, tales of angels fighting to secure the safety of humanity and rid the world of demons. It had always struck Simon as odd how alike the angels were compared to families like Isabelle's. Despite their belief in the purity of souls, they held themselves as if they were better, as if they were untouchable. The demons were encouraged to be seen upon as evil; to him they seemed to signify the hatred of anything different. In Idris everyone had to be the same or they weren't accepted. It was disgusting.

"I don't like to think about it either." Simon blinked, startled. Without realizing it he had drifted down the hall next to the detention room to a picture of an angel slaying a demon. The picture glittered dangerously next to the window, the red frame slightly askew. Isabelle was staring at him with unreadable brown eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

She tried for a half smile. Her care free demeanor was gone, displaying a girl who knew a little bit too much about the world they lived in. "We all have a secret self, Simon. It's our choice whether or not we want to separate it or merge it with who we have to be."

That sounded terrible. It sounded like being an actor for your whole life without knowing why. It sounded like church on Sundays and breakdowns on Mondays. It sounded like tearing yourself out from the inside until there was nothing to keep you from hurting. He wanted to tell her, to spell the words out in bold letters to make her understood that it didn't have to be this way but she just walked right past him, squeezing his shoulder softly before the door shut. He took another long look at the picture then followed.

* * *

"Just to inform you; you have all ruined my weekend."

Simon shifted in his seat behind Isabelle. Mr. Valentine was a good teacher but he was undeniably frightening and the fact that he had a whip on his desk was more then a little creepy. He had the makings of a down low stalker or a skilled rapist. He froze when the teacher's gaze settled on him then took a deep a breath when he returned to fiddling with something on his desk. "Definitely a rapist."

There was a low sound of laughter beside him. "I've personally always seen him more as child molester."

Simon found a head of spiky black hair and brilliant hazel eyes when he turned. He hadn't noticed anyone sitting next to him. Though he was usually terrible at observing. He glanced around the room finding a familiar head of blonde across from him sitting with a tiny girl with a bob of red hair. He caught the eye of the blonde and swallowed when he smirked at him.

"Yeah, but one with a penchant for teenage boys."

"That's disgusting," Which Simon supposed it was. The boy held out his hand. People still shook hands? Where had he been? "Magnus Bane."

"Simon Lewis." His grip was firm but gentle. It wasn't meant to assert power, but friendship. He noticed Isabelle had turned around and cocked his head. She shook her head and smiled at Magnus. Not one apart of her repertoire of fakes one's either. Her eyes crinkled at the corner and her nose scrunched up.

"So why isn't Alec joining us as well?" Magnus waved a hand in the air and Simon realized that his nails were a glittery black. Surprising.

"The old man found us in a rather provocative position and though he sympathized with our plight he had to punish one of us."

Isabelle's eyes sparkled almost as brightly as Magnus's nail polish. "Of course, you being the gentleman you are offered to take the fall."

"Of course."

Simon raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Alec was Isabelle's older brother and though they never spoke of it in public everyone was highly aware that he was gay. And Isabelle swung both ways. He hadn't known that Alec was dating anyone but it made sense. He hadn't been hanging around them as much as he used to. He was an easy guy to talk to; especially about things he hadn't want to talk to Isabelle about.

Mr. Valentine snapped his whip on the desk, quickly getting everyone's attention. "I'm leaving. I don't care what you do as long as I find you here at 2: 30. Got it?"

Simon couldn't help it. He saluted, chiming out a, "Sir, yes, sir."

The teacher's mouth quirked up a little before he stomped out, muttering something about insolent children and Lewis's being smartasses. It was quiet for about three seconds before Isabelle stood up. "Who wants to go to Taki's?" Everyone raised their hand.

"Good," Isabelle reached for her purse. "I so wasn't looking forward to the cliché Breakfast Club heart to heart. Been there, watched that. Let's go."

The first thing that Jace said when he slid into the booth at Taki's was, "I'm going to warn you all right now. Kaelie is hopelessly in love with me."

"Who's Kaelie?" The red headed girl asked, fingering her butterfly earrings delicately. Everything about her was delicate and Simon couldn't help but be a bit repulsed by someone so fragile. He felt guilty until he saw Magnus's grin. _It's all right,_ he mouthed. What was alright? Liking roughness instead of softness or itching to move because the person he'd liked since he had attended the Institute was close enough to touch? It sure as hell didn't feel alright. He glared at Isabelle who was sitting across from him next to the girl, looking smugger then ever. Oh he hated her sometimes.

Jace sighed but didn't answer; tracing the wood of the table with his fingers. They were long and tan which Simon pictured the rest of him to be like. He blushed suddenly, turning to study the restaurant occupants when he realized the direction his thoughts were taking. _Keep your mind out of the metaphorical gutter, Simon. _

Taki's was more of a diner then a restaurant. He'd only been once before but it was a hang out spot for the kids who wanted to 'stick it to the man.' The two reasons that wasn't possible being 1) You couldn't beat the system driving a Porsche or texting your boyfriend at the table when he was right across from you. 2) They didn't live in the 70's any longer. Honestly. He snorted when he saw two teenagers in a booth eating salad then bit his lip when a warm hand touched his. Jace was smiling at him.

"You okay there?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. A little tired."

"There should be a law against getting up this early. For detention no less."

He nodded. Frowned. "Why do you have detention?"

Jace's expression closed but not before Simon caught a trace of- embarrassment? Before he could comment a pale girl with streaks of green in her light hair and surreal blue eyes asked for their order.

"Hello, Kae." The boy sitting next to him drawled and he could see why the girl was in love with him. "I'll take anything you suggest."

Kaelie blushed. She was gorgeous and even though he knew she wasn't Isabelle's type, he saw the appreciative glance she threw her. Magnus seemed incessantly amused.

"Clary, what would you like?" Isabelle flipped through the menu. He didn't know why, it wasn't like she didn't have the thing memorized by heart already. He may not have come here much but his best friend loved the place.

The red head- Clary, he corrected- shrugged. "I'll have whatever you're having."

Isabelle lit up like a Christmas tree. She loved being in charge. "I want the veggie burger with onion rings and a strawberry banana smoothie. "

"I second that." Magnus had his phone out, his fingers dancing over the keyboard.

"I'll have whatever Jace is having," Simon turned, missing the look said boy gave him. "Magnus, phones do not belong at the dinner table."

Magnus shimmied out of the booth, stating a dramatic, "But mother, this isn't a dinner table."

"I don't approve of your choice of friends, Isabelle Celine Lightwood. "

"Frankly, my dear," Isabelle flipped her hair and smiled winningly. "I don't give a damn."

* * *

Magnus waited for his boyfriend to pick up his phone. On the third try a sleepy voice trickled out of the speaker. "You better be fuckin dying."

He shoved his legs under the bench he was occupying. Alec was definitely not a morning person. Well, unless Magnus was there. Then the whole thing could be negotiated.

"It's nice to hear from you too, darling. Thanks."

The phone was shifted. He was used to that, Alec had insanely sensitive ears. "Sorry, it's just too early and your not here."

Which was his boyfriend's way of saying, "I hate everything but I love you." He tugged at his hair. Jesus, Alec made him feel like a girl sometimes. An older lady passed by him and smiled on her way to the bathroom and he wondered if she would still be so kind if she knew he liked men. Maybe. You never knew with people these days.

"I know. But I need your advice since you probably know more about this topic then I do."

"Go ahead."

"What do you think would be an appropriate way to nudge Simon Lewis into the direction of a certain Wayland boy?"

"Magnus," He made a face, recognizing the lecturing tone. But Alec surprised him. Just as he always did. "Simon's like my little brother and he hasn't had the best experience with people in general. Both his parents are gone and his uncle hardly speaks to him. He's a lot like us, you know. Different. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He did. He understood how unhappy Isabelle was despite the fact that she tried to accept the life that was planned for her. He could comprehend the way his boyfriend's parents looked at him when they saw him, like it was his fault that their son would never have the life they had expected him to have. He could grasp the distant part of Simon's personality because you could never be sure if people were playing you for a fool here. Demons being slayed by the angels. That was how he'd always seen it.

"Jace looks at Simon like he's an angel." It was cheesy but it was true.

"Then between you and Isabelle I know you can get him there. You can't always find your own way alone."

"You know, you're kind of hot when you're being all wise and shit." He smiled when he heard Alec laugh. "Who taught you that?"

"Taught me what?"

"The thing about finding your own way."

There was a pause and now he knew Alec was smiling too. "You, kid. Now let me go back to sleep. I'll see you later."

"Love you too." He hung up and walked back to the table. He had a plan.

* * *

After eating Magnus had ushered everyone into going to the park. It was only one. They had time. Simon couldn't help noticing the glances Isabelle and Magnus kept exchanging and to say that it was disturbing was putting it lightly. He stayed put when everyone got out of the car. Jace was still staring at the window like he'd forgotten anyone else existed.

"You still with us?" _Or me? _

He shook his head. "I'm somewhere else, I think."

"Where are you?"

"I've always wondered what it would be like to see the world through another person's eyes. Maybe that's weird. I just wonder."

Simon watched the space that Jace's eyes were glued on. There was no one around. Isabelle and Clary were swinging, obviously racing to see who could go faster. They were both laughing, heads tilted up. He hadn't been to the park since his parents had died but he remembered the feeling of flying. Of there being no place else but up. It was an amazing sensation. Magnus was leaning on the side of the slide watching them. But Simon could tell from the tilt of his head that he was smiling.

"I see three people being kids for awhile before they have to go back to being adults way before they should have to."

Jace glanced at him, amber haziness clearing. "Me too."

"Hey, do you want to go somewhere?" He blurted out awkwardly. Everything he did was awkward so whatever.

"I-"

"Hey, losers. Isabelle told me to give you these." Simon turned to see Clary holding up Isabelle's car keys in one hand, panting from the run over. The redhead threw them and despite his awful hand-eye coordination he managed to catch them.

"Thanks."

Clary eyed him then smirked. Barely a day with Isabelle and she was already being corrupted. "Have fun."

* * *

They walked back into the detention room ten minutes later. Simon played with globe on Mr. Valentine's desk and then turned when Jace cleared his throat. The blonde was sitting on one of the desks drumming his fingers in a beat he'd heard more then once in class.

"Why are we back here?"

He shrugged, shoving a hand his pocket. "It's empty."

"Lewis, I'm really not that kind of guy." Jace said but his mouth quirked upwards and he knew that the boy was just kidding. Just what _were _they doing here? Oh. Right. Awkward confessing of feelings coming right up.

"Jace," He rubbed his neck, praying for his mouth to keep a lock on its random bursts of verbal diaherra. "I kind of- well, I want to-"

"Ask me out."

Simon gaped then shook his head, completely defeated. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"I've been waiting for you to man up and ask me for awhile now." Jace tilted his head, yawning. Which was seriously uncool but whatever. He'd gotten it over with and the person he'd asked out seemed to like him (?) back. Though he was a little weirded out by the whole situation. Jace hopped off the desk gracefully and walked over to him. They were about the same height, he realized.

The words, when he said them, were teasing but the hands that gripped his forearm were sound. "It took you long enough."

Simon wanted to ask him why he didn't just ask him out then, if he had been taking so long to catch on, but then Jace was kissing him. A simple brush of lips that turned into a full out make out session when he slipped his tongue in the other boy's mouth. Jace tasted like sugar, almost nauseatingly sweet, and it was great. When they heard a tap they broke away, mouth's red and hair in disarray's.

Magnus and Isabelle were smirking, an amused looking Clary trailing behind them.

"Well," Isabelle sighed dramatically. "That all went according to plan."

Simon couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

I appreciate your reviews. Honest.


	4. Tie- Breaker

Yo. This a drabble that I had on my Tumblr and I decided to spruce it up and post. I have another chapter coming up soon if I can my lazy ass to write some Jimon.

Things about last chapter:

-Contrived ending. Sorry.

-I paired Isabelle and Clary together because I ship them insanely.

-Alec was so awesome, man. I really love the way I wrote him.

Warnings: Things. Sexual happenings? Whatever. Enjoy the shittiness.

* * *

Jace rolled over, frowning when his body hit the floor. Hard.

"Ow." He couldn't help but mutter. It wasn't even that it had hurt; more that he was surprised he had fallen in the first place. A smile started at the corner of his lips. The irony of the statement wasn't lost on him. Soft, gasping noises from the bed pushed him up.

"Simon?"

"Um," Another noise. This one sounded more strained. "Yeah?'

Jace's golden eyes traced the lines of Simon's shoulder as they shook. At first glance one would think he was crying but besides the fact that Simon didn't cry, he was also clutching his stomach like his songbook depended on it. The asshole was laughing at him. Oh, this called for revenge. He crawled under the sheets pressing his body flush against the dark-haired boy. Bad move. Simon inhaled sharply and flipped him over until he was straddling him.

He blinked into the darkness. _Simon's not something to mess with in bed. Don't even try unless you want your ego handed to you on a silver platter_. So that's what Isabelle and Clary had meant. Yeah, he was screwed. "This is quite a position."

"You started it." Simon pointed out. Jace couldn't find the words to tell him it was his fault for laughing in the first place because Simon's hands dug there way under Jace's shirt, stroking his naval and making a path downwards. When he shivered, Simon rocked their hips together.

Jace was pretty sure this is what drowning felt like; knowing you weren't going to be able to catch a proper breath anytime soon, if at all. But he wasn't going to just sit still. If he was going to be thoroughly conquered then he was going to help. The bed made a creaking noise as he shifted, eliciting a moan out of the boy on top of him.

"Don't move."

Jace rolled his eyes. He couldn't resist a mocking, "Yes, sir." There was silence and he could only make out Simon's tilted head in the dark. "What?"

"Say it again." The vampire's voice was more heated then the burning stove he'd accidently brushed against this morning. It promised very, very naughty things. And because Jace had spent his life being a bad boy he smirked.

"Whatever you want, sir."

* * *

In the morning, Jordan glanced up to where Jace and Simon had just entered the kitchen and snorted. Jace was rubbing his eyes; his hair sticking up at all ends. Simon looked so smug it seemed the smirk on his face was never going to disappear fully.

"You two hungry?" Jordan flipped one of the pancakes, frowning when it didn't come out the way he wanted. Jace nodded. Apparently, he went mute in the mornings.

Simon motioned to the fridge then said, "Could you hand me one of my…You know."

Jordan knew shouldn't do it, it would be embarrassing and wrong but he couldn't help it with the way Jace kept shooting dirty glances at Simon or the fact that they were both wearing each other's shirts from the day before. There were so many reasons why he shouldn't, so, of course, he had to.

With barely restrained laughter, he mimicked Jace's low drawl. "Yes, sir."

He waited, expecting one of them to blush or leave the room but Jace just shrugged then spun his head around to stare at his boyfriend as if he had just thought of something. "Simon?"

The vampire seemed to be fascinated with the carpet. He stuck his hands into his pocket and rocked. Jordan thought found it funny that he was so obviously trying to look innocent. "Yeah?"

"Did you push me off the bed on purpose?"

* * *

Yep. Still here.


	5. Chapter 5

So I am correctly restricted from the computer. Until I return does anybody have any requests? Thanks. -Sy


	6. White House

I am amused that Simon would be considered the First Man. It's kind of a beautiful title.

Anyway, this entire concept and lots of lines are taken from my circle of awesome friends (Hello, Danni and Tia) who laughed and cried over the idea of Jimon taking over the White House last night. You guys endlessly amuse me. The Shadow hunters thank you.

Enjoy.

Warnings: Language. Magnus and Isabelle's entire being? Jordan twerking (I'm still dying over that)?

_~It's always fun when your entire pack of family and friends decide to take over your house. Not._

* * *

The day that Jace Herondale-Lightwood, the first openly gay man in office, became President was a proud day. The television blasted in every room. Reporters speculating, congratulating his husband on his win. Simon kissed Jace on the cheek and the man smiled at him.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

He pursed his lips. "You think maybe we should tell Clary we're together now?"

Jace's eyes widened. "Fuck."

"Indeed."

* * *

Clary just sighed and shook her head. "You guys got together then got married and didn't think to tell me until a year later?"

Simon stuck out his bottom lip while Jace raised his hand weakly. "Surprise."

"That's it. I'm moving to a place where you two don't reign." The redheaded woman rose from her chair then swept back quickly, pulling them into rough hugs.

"Don't fuck this up. I'm not showing up to court to testify if you do something dumb."

Both of them figured that was as close to an, _I love you_, as they were going to get.

* * *

Alec looked over to Magnus who was peering at one of the portraits of George Washington. It was so surreal, really, to be standing in the middle of the White House corridor. Especially when your own brother was living there. He frowned in thought. "How many rooms do you think there are?"

"I don't know." Magnus hummed idly. Then, he smirked in a way that made Alec shiver. "Want to find out?"

* * *

The door was closed. A piece of paper hung in the middle with a tattered piece of tape (Simon figured that had been Alec's doing. He couldn't wrap presents for shit) across it. The words written in wrecked cursive were, Do Not Disturb. He closed his eyes in horror when he heard a loud moan from inside.

Jace groaned. "Shit. Now I have to get someone to clean my desk."

He stepped back and inspected the hallway. A lot of the doors that had been securely closed before were now wide open. Simon pressed a kiss to his husband's cheek. "Oh, honey, I think you're going to have to get everything cleaned."

"I'm going to be sick."

His mouth twitched when he heard Magnus (Because, really, no one else could go that high) scream. "It's very Kennedy of them."

He laughed as Jace sagged to the floor in despair.

* * *

"Isabelle."

The girl in question was perched on the seat in front of the desk, smirking. Magnus was sitting in the chair beside her inspecting his nails. To say Jace was ready to commit murder was an understatement.

"Yes, my dear brother?"

"Why is my house doused with glitter?"

Slowly Isabelle and Magnus pointed at the other with innocent expressions. Which was slightly marred by the streaks of sparkles on their hands.

"She did it."

"He did it."

He opened his mouth to reprimand them. Just because he was gay didn't mean he wanted his house overflowing with unicorns, rainbows and skittle packages. But Simon walked in with his dark hair windblown and large brown eyes dancing. All in all, not a good sign.

"Dear, we seem to have quite the situation."

Ten minutes later he tugged at his hair, trying to ignore the snickering of his sister and brother-in-law. His husband was rubbing his back but even that didn't help the situation because his house, his lovely white house that had been the color of snow for decades, was _pink_.

He shook his head. "That's it. I don't want to be President anymore."

"Look at the bright side," Isabelle choked from behind him. "At least there aren't any unicorns."

* * *

Jace gaped. "What are they doing?"

"I think the correct term is twerking."

He hunched, tightening his grip on Simon's hand. They had all just gotten back from a charity event to find Maia and Jordan in his office (What was with everyone's obsession with his office?) humping each other over the soundtrack of Dirty Dancing.

"Is that even legal?" Alec questioned. His blue eyes were amusedly curious.

"God I hope not."

"Okay, everyone out. I hate all of your faces. Yes, especially you two practically having sex."

He sighed when they all groaned but complied. His husband nudged him and he looked up to see Alec lagging behind.

"What's going on?" He asked quietly. His brother's face was unreadable. Alec shook his head.

"Jace, you know we're proud of you, right?"

Did he? He thought of Clary's smile when they'd last seen her, the way Magnus laid out the appropriate attire for every event, Maia's slug in his side when she found out he'd won the election. Yeah. He knew. But it was nice to hear it sometimes. "Thanks, man."

His brother nodded and left. He turned to see Simon lying across his desk staring up at the high ceiling. Their eyes met and he smiled.

"You proud of me too?"

Simon's lips curved upwards but his tone was soft and serious. "Always."

He reached over and kissed him, melting into orange and strawberry. Their fruits of the day. When they broke apart he stroked his husband's cheekbone. "Hey."

"Hi."

God he would never get over how much he loved this man. "How many rooms do you think there are?"

Simon tilted his head. "I don't know."

"Want to find out?"

* * *

And they did. Twice.

* * *

Naughty, kids. Thanks for reading.


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